


Torn Apart: A Star Wars fanfiction

by BadFeeling



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26678614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadFeeling/pseuds/BadFeeling
Summary: What if Ben hadn't killed Han Solo? What if at the last second he faltered, and then ran out into the snow alone? Would someone have gone after him? Let's find out.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Torn Apart: A Star Wars fanfiction

‘TORN APART’: A Star Wars fanfiction

Ben:

There was a madness in him. As he ran, he could still feel the heat of the sabre in his hands, his face. Oh god oh god, what had he tried to do? What had he almost done?

Explosions sounded behind him, rumbles that rocked the planet to its core, and he stumbled in the snow and fell down with a cry. His hands tore on the ground beneath, only adding to that terrible heat he still felt, and for a second he kept them there. The snow, the cold, blessed snow was soothing for a moment.

But quickly that felt wrong too. Because the ground itself was growing hot now. Less with his skin, than with the power of his senses, that penetrated down, down into that trembling earth, he felt the shift, the welling up of horrible energy that in minutes would tear this Force-forsaken planet crust-from-core, shatter it into so many pieces to spin through space.

Fitting, he thought, knowing what this very planet had done just hours ago.

And fitting that it should take me with it. Tear me apart on the outside, to match what’s going on in my f***ed-up head.

He pushed the ground away. Staggered to his feet. Then he kept on running.

Uphill now, boots slipping on the ice and breath coming hard out of him. Another rumble, an explosion closer this time, like it had come from the oscillator chamber. But that meant… No, no it couldn’t be. Luck, or sick design or whatever couldn’t have spared the old man, only to take him now? He shuddered, wrapped both arms around him and pushed on, trying to block that face from his mind.

That face. How unlike his own. People said he favoured his mother, but he didn’t even see that. And less now, since locking it away inside a mask.

Except… in that moment, when their eyes had met over the bridge, across the precipice… Eyes, yes, that was it. Eyes he’d expected to see such anger in, softened instead by lines of… what? Pity? The man had grown older, wilder since he’d last seen those eyes. He had no right to be so afraid of them.

And the way they’d flashed with light, red light as the sabre lit up, slashed within inches of them.

Kill. He’d meant to kill the sad, old, limping, sad, done old man. How dare he! An aging smuggler, of all people, claim to be the father of Kylo Ren?

The thought was poison. It choked him now as it had before, stopped his breath in his throat and forced him to stagger to a halt. He braced himself on a tree’s icy trunk as a hacking fit overcame him.

Idiot old man. Sad old had-been. How easy, to point with the hilt, to squeeze the trigger and fire straight through that aging heart. How many beats did it have left anyway? A handful, compared to the organ beating hot and hard in his own chest. A fair exchange! The sacrifice of one spent life, for the power he’d inherit! Such power. So very nearly in his grasp, and now…

Another deep boom rang out, more distant this time. His fingers curled and the tree’s bark cut in under the nails.

Good. Pain was good. It was an ally when mastered. It fed the dark side.

But then, why run from it? What was he doing out here after all? Running from hurt and suffering to Force only knew where, when he should be owning it, honing it to fuel the fire within?

He couldn’t answer that.

And just like that, his strength left him. His legs shook and dropped him to the ground, to sit slumped in the snow, with the world shaking apart beneath him, and the sun black and dead above.

Rey:

No! No, no, no, don’t do it! Don’t! How can you-

Rey heard the deadly hum of the lightsabre, as the red blade shot from the hilt straight towards…

…but no. The smuggler didn’t drop dead from it. It didn’t run him through. Instead it trembled between them, father and son, shining red on both their faces.

His hands were on the sabre’s hilt too, above Ben’s. Back and forth now the blade tilted, shivered as its wielders pitted strength against strength, will to will. But whose was stronger? And who now was pushing, who pulling the deadly thing? Was the son trying even now to cut his father down? Was Han now trying to kill the son that betrayed him?

The chamber echoed all around. Thunder shook it and shards flew from the walls. The Resistance: they were bombarding this place!

They don’t know we’ve succeeded, or what’s going on in here…

Rey’s hands shot to the railing to steady herself, as a massive force shook the building. But she had eyes only for the struggle down below, as the Solos fought over the sabre. A cry went up. From one, or both? Teeth were bared, eyes bulged and sweat sheened their faces; all in the weapon’s light as it pitched back and forth, back and forth and suddenly-

It flew from both their hands. Blade fizzling out, the black hilt turned in the air and plummeted for the void beneath the bridge. In a second it was gone, and the two men stood with hands on knees, doubled over and breathing hard, but eyes still locked.

Then Ben Solo began to run. He turned with a swish of his cloak, footfalls hammering the walkway and was gone in seconds, even as Han fell to his knees from another mighty shudder.

She didn’t mean to cry out. But she did. She called after the boy as he ran. And before she knew it, she was running too, running after him into the snow.

Ben:

Ben… When was the last time he’d been called by that name?

He’d thought he’d never hear it again. Damn the old man, for making it one of the last things he’d hear.

It was the name he gave me, after all. Passed down from another failed old fool that Han had barely even known. But it meant something to Luke, and that old man was important to his mother…

Why was he thinking about them now?

The cold was creeping in, though his hands still felt it: the sabre’s ghost. A wind tugged on his clothes and hair. Another great heave from the earth. It would all be gone soon, gone and him with it.

Her face. Leia’s face, surrounded by sun and a clear blue sky…

No. He couldn’t die remembering that. It had to be something else. Something worthy of him.

Another face. A female face again, but not so familiar; one he’d seen for the first time only hours ago and thought nothing of. Again the eyes stood out, looking hard into him, as though piercing his mind, and maybe she had. After all, she’d said things, terrible things that couldn’t be true, but that she’d have no other way of knowing…

You. You’re afraid. That you’ll never be as strong as Darth Vader.

His fists clenched in the snow. Shards of ice cracked between his fingers to trickle down them.

She wasn’t right. She couldn’t be. How could she know?

And now her face was all he could see in his mind. It was here to mock him as he died, alongside Leia’s, and Han’s, to remind him how he’d never be strong enough to hurt any of them…

His eyes closed as her face came closer to his. Good. He could blot her out after all. Let the afterglow of his lightsabre – the shadow of the blade dancing back and forth, still burned into his eyes when he closed them – be the last thing he saw instead. Even that mocked him for his failure…

Suddenly he felt arms around him, a warmth. So was this what dying in the snow was like? Or was the planet’s crust actually melting underneath him now? Was he about to plunge into the boiling stomach of it? Was that how he’d go? By ice or fire or both. He didn’t care.

It was a good heat. A comforting warmth, like a blanket more than a shroud. And it clung tightly to him, wrapped him whole and pinned his arms to his sides. Not that he’d have fought this. This wasn’t so bad. This was a good way to go.

He opened his eyes again as he felt wetness on them.

Tears. Had he been crying?

No. But she was.

She was there. She was really there in the flesh and staring at him with tears in her eyes. She was alive with light against the dark sky. Her body was pressed to his, hands curled in his cloak’s folds, beneath his back. And her face was actually against his. Their tears, because maybe some of them were his after all, were freezing on their cheeks, binding them together.

No. No, he didn’t want this. This wasn’t the way to go. Not with her. She didn’t deserve to go out too, swallowed by a dying planet. She had to let him go. Let him die alone…

But he couldn’t move her. All his strength had left him and she clung so tight. And then she whispered something.

“It’s alright,” she said. “It’s alright. We’ll get you out of here.”

And with those words he felt her arms tighten harder round him, felt her lift him from beneath and drag him to his feet. His legs shook. The whole world shook, and he half stumbled into her arms again. But she kept them both upright. And she was leading them now, leading them both uphill as the wind pushed back at them and fires lit the sky.

Ahead there was a light. Before them both was a rushing, roaring sound like… an engine? The light was filling the way ahead, brighter than the beam that had shot from the weapon at the heart of this world. Beacon-bright. It came from a ship that was descending before them, lowering a ramp to carry them up, take them both away…

And he lost all power to resist. Hers was all the strength he had left, and he let her carry him up into that ship, away from the world that was tearing itself apart.

“It’s alright,” he heard her say again. “You’re alright now.”

Her arms were still around him.

And why? Why was she doing this? What had he, Kylo Ren, done to deserve it? What had he nearly done, to make her hate him forever?

And yet here she was, helping him. Holding him. Against all odds, she was holding him together.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Another one-hitter for you. Though I don’t know, maybe this is the start of something: a what-could-have-been? Maybe this is an AU in the making, who knows? We’ll see where the mood takes me.
> 
> Either way, I hope you liked it and hit the next one up as it comes. We’ll go for something a bit more humorous next I think.
> 
> And remember, my Episode VII rewrite is complete and waiting to be read! I’ve had such a lot of great feedback already over it and views are piling up, so thank you so much for the support!
> 
> STAR WARS EPISODE VII: THE FORCE (RE)AWAKENS is a completely new take on the Sequel Trilogy, with new and classic characters both. It’s a follow-up to Return of the Jedi, and features the New Republic facing off with a dangerous Loyalist faction.
> 
> Anywho, have a great day. See you for the next one!


End file.
